Vikram Seth - A Suitable Boy

Lata, despite the sad and, in some ways, sinister venue, was pleased to see Maan. It was true that their worlds hardly intersected. It had amazed her that Pran had been able, last April Fool’s, to convince her mother of their elopement. But she remembered Maan as she always had — jovial and affectionate — and she was glad to think that he had remembered her. She was not determinedly cheerful, but she could see that talking with her was doing Maan good. They talked about Calcutta, particularly the Chatterjis, and — partly because she wanted to keep him interested — she talked a great deal more freely with him than she normally would have, or than she ordinarily did with Pran. The jail officers sat out of clear hearing, but they looked at them curiously when they burst out laughing. They were not accustomed to that sound in the visiting room.

The next day they heard more of the same. Maan was visited by his old friend Sarla and her husband, who for some reason was called Pigeon by all his friends. Sarla, who had not seen Maan for months, regaled him with a description of a New Year’s party that she and Pigeon had been to. It had been organized by Pigeon’s friends.

‘In order to add a little spice to the gathering,’ said Sarla, ‘they decided this year to be bold and hire a cabaret dancer — from a cheap hotel in Tarbuz ka Bazaar — one of those hotels that advertises stripteases with a new Salome every week and is constantly being raided by the police.’

‘Lower your voice,’ laughed Maan.

‘Well,’ said Sarla, ‘she danced, and took off a few of her clothes, and danced some more — and all so suggestively and lasciviously that the women were appalled. The men — well, they had mixed emotions. Pigeon, for instance.’

‘No — no,’ said Pigeon.

‘Pigeon, she sat on your lap, and you didn’t stop her.’

‘How could I?’ said Pigeon.

‘Yes, he’s right — it isn’t easy,’ said Maan.

Sarla gave Maan a look, and continued: ‘Well, anyway, she then set upon Mala and Gopu, and began to caress Gopu in all kinds of ways. He was quite tipsy, and didn’t object. But you know how possessive Mala is of her husband. She pulled him away. But the other woman pulled him back. Quite shameless. Gopu got scolded badly the next day, and all the wives vowed: Never again.’

Maan burst out laughing, Sarla joined in, and even Pigeon smiled, a little guiltily.

‘But you haven’t heard the best part,’ said Sarla. ‘A week later the police raided that Tarbuz ka Bazaar hotel, and it was discovered that the cabaret dancer was a boy! Well, we teased those two unmercifully after that! I can still hardly believe it. He had us all fooled — the voice, the eyes, the gait, the feel of the whole situation — and all along it was a boy!’

‘I suspected it all along,’ said Pigeon.

‘You didn’t suspect anything,’ said Sarla. ‘If you did and still behaved the way you did I’d be even more worried.’

‘Well, not all along,’ said Pigeon.

‘He must have enjoyed himself,’ said Sarla. ‘Fooling us like that. No wonder he could act so shamelessly. No girl would!’

‘Oh no,’ said Pigeon sarcastically. ‘No girl would. Sarla thinks all women are paragons.’

‘Well, compared to men we certainly are,’ said Sarla. ‘The trouble is, Pigeon, you don’t appreciate us. Well, most of you don’t. Maan’s an exception; he always did. You’d better come out of jail fast and rescue me, Maan. What do you say, Pigeon?’

As their time was up, her husband was spared from having to think of an answer. But for half an hour after they left, Maan kept picturing the scene she had conjured up, and kept laughing to himself in his cell. His fellow-prisoners could not think what had got into him.

Towards the end of January Maan’s case came up for committal proceedings before a magistrate. The question at issue was what charges were to be preferred against him, if any.

Clearly, there would have to be a charge-sheet; no policeman, however dedicated he might be to undo his duty or to misuse his discretion, could easily have spoiled such a case sufficiently to issue a ‘final report’, which would have stated that there was no case to answer. The Sub-Inspector could perhaps have tried to go around winning over witnesses in such an attempt, but as investigating officer he had done his job well; and he was unhappy enough as it was that his investigation was being interfered with by his superiors. He knew that the matter was still in the public eye, and he also knew who the scapegoat would be if there was any suggestion of interference with the course of justice.

Maan and his lawyer were both present at the committal proceedings.

The Sub-Inspector stood before the committal magistrate and described the events that had led to the investigation, provided a summary of the investigation itself, submitted the documents relevant to the case, stated that the victim was now definitely out of danger, and asserted in conclusion that Maan should be charged with voluntarily causing grievous hurt.

The magistrate was puzzled.

‘What about attempted murder?’ he said, looking the policeman in the eye, and avoiding Maan’s.

‘Attempted murder?’ said the policeman unhappily, tugging a little at his moustache.

‘Or at least attempted culpable homicide,’ said the magistrate. ‘But from these statements, I am not sure the former charge cannot be made out. Even if there had been grave and sudden provocation, it was not given by the victim. Nor does it appear prima facie that the wound was inflicted by mistake or accident.’

The policeman was silent, but nodded his head.

Maan’s lawyer whispered to Maan that he thought they were in trouble.

‘And why Section 325 instead of Section 326?’ continued the magistrate.

The former section dealt with grievous hurt; when the case came up for trial, the maximum sentence that could be imposed would be seven years; but for the moment Maan could be let out on bail. The latter section also dealt with grievous hurt, but with a dangerous weapon. This was not bailable, and the maximum punishment was life imprisonment.

The Sub-Inspector mumbled something about the weapon not having been discovered.

The magistrate looked at him severely. ‘Do you think these injuries’—he looked down at the medical certificate—‘these lacerations of the intestine and so on were caused by a stick?’

The Sub-Inspector said nothing.

‘I think you should, well, investigate further,’ said the magistrate. ‘And re-examine your own evidence and the charges that suggest themselves.’

Maan’s lawyer stood up to propose that such matters were within the discretion of the investigating officer.

‘I am aware of that,’ snapped the magistrate, who was disgusted with the proceedings. ‘I am not telling him what charge to prefer.’ He reflected that if it had not been for the medical certificate, the Sub-Inspector would probably have put forward a charge of simple hurt.

Glancing at Maan, the magistrate noticed that he looked unaffected enough by events. Presumably he was one of those criminals who learned nothing from their crimes.

Maan’s lawyer asked that Maan be let out on bail, since the only present charge against him was bailable. The magistrate granted this, but it was clear that he was very annoyed. Part of his annoyance stemmed from the lawyer’s reference to ‘my client’s grievous distress consequent on the demise of his mother’.

Maan’s lawyer whispered: ‘Thank God you won’t be tried by him.’

Maan, who had begun to take an interest in his defence, said: ‘Am I free?’

‘Yes; for the moment.’

‘What will I be charged with?’